


My Left Foot

by Camelittle



Series: Convalescence [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Thoughts, Flirting, Foot Massage, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur has an itch that he just can't reach, Merlin's solution makes him let out a lot of blissful groans. Accidentally, of course. He's definitely not doing it on purpose to make Merlin blush.  Dear me, no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Left Foot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Breakfast in Bed" square on my [Merlin Writers Quickie Bingo](http://merlin-writers.livejournal.com/161477.html) card. 
> 
> With apologies to the writers of "When Harry Met Sally"

Something had changed.

“Merlin?”

He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, exactly. All he knew was that, ever since that near-kiss on the couch in front of the rugby, Merlin’s manner was different. Maybe it was in the subliminal hitch in his breathing when he helped Arthur to dress, or in the appraising expression on his face when he thought Arthur wasn’t looking, or in the oh-so-casual way that he smoothed Arthur’s bedcovers before Arthur manoeuvred himself into bed. Arthur wasn’t sure, but he had inklings, happy inklings that led him to be more expansive in his gestures and more generous with his smiles, in the hope of catching Merlin off-guard and making him blush.

Because, and Arthur had to be brutally honest with himself here, making Merlin blush was one of his current favourite pastimes.

“Merlin???”

Although Arthur could do many things for himself, now, the limited range of motion in his leg, coupled with the fact that his arm had to remain in collar and cuff for at least another two weeks, meant that there were some things that he still couldn’t manage. He wasn’t sure what to think about that. He was torn between impatience to recover on the one hand, and a sinking knowledge that his sojourn under Merlin’s care was drawing to a close on the other.

“MERLIN!”

What with all these confusing feelings tugging him hither and thither, it was only to be expected that Arthur would get cranky from time to time.  

Merlin’s face finally appeared at the door. “Yes, oh imperious one? Your wish is my command!”

“My foot itches.”

“Well scratch it with your scratching stick, then! Bossyboots!”

“I’ve done that.” Arthur changed his expression from imperious to pleading. “There’s a spot I can’t quite reach. It’s driving me mad! Will you please sort it out for me?”

Sighing, and rolling his eyes melodramatically, Merlin nevertheless hung up his coat and started to wash his hands.

“Where’ve you been, anyway? You should have been here half an hour ago.” Arthur felt a peevish line developing between his eyebrows. He didn’t mean to sound so sulky, really he didn’t, but Merlin was normally so reliable. He felt quite put out.

“There was a hold up in the kitchen. The toaster went, and it blew a fuse, which meant that they couldn’t boil the kettle, and apparently the power went off in the whole of the East wing of the mansion. Gwen’s sorting it out but breakfast will be a bit late this morning. Your Imperial Highness.”

“I’ll have you for breakfast,” growled Arthur. Realising what he’d just said, he felt heat stain his cheeks and tried to cover his confusion with bluster. “Not that you’d make much of a meal, there’s not a lot of flesh on those bones.”

Come to mention it, Merlin’s face looked a little pink as he swirled a cloth round Arthur’s elevated left foot and started to lather his hands with oil. Aha! First blush of the day! Arthur allowed himself a brief moment of triumph at achieving his goal while the scent of lavender filled the air.

“Where do you want me to rub?” said Merlin, pressing a thumb gently into the arch of Arthur’s foot and swirling round in small circles.

Resisting the temptation to say “much further up, all the way round my cock and balls, and then back again, repeatedly”, Arthur instead settled for croaking out, “just there is great, thanks, Merlin.” Because all thoughts left him when those long fingers were intent on teasing out all the discomfort.

Merlin had massaged him before, of course. In the early days after his injury, his glutes and his shoulder had often gone into spasm, and Merlin’s clever fingers had eased the cramping. But that had been strictly therapeutic, and although it had eased the pain at the time, the touch of Merlin’s fingers on his foot felt different somehow. More intimate.

When Merlin exhaled, a short amused breath, it felt cool on Arthur’s instep, all slick with oil as it was, and raised goose bumps all up his leg. At that moment, Merlin’s finger found a particular spot that had bothered him for hours. Days!

“Oh my God, yes, there, right there, yes!” Arthur threw his hair back onto the pillow and groaned in bliss. “Oh God! Thats so good! Yes! That! Whatever it is you just did then, do it again! Ah! Scratch it, oh yeah, yeah, right there.”

It was good. It was more than good: it was glorious. Merlin’s palms were warm and slick, and applied just the right amount of heavenly pressure. Arthur couldn’t help it. He moaned, loudly.

“You sound like Meg Ryan, in ‘When Harry Met Sally’,” said Merlin.

Opening his eyes a fraction to try to gauge whether Merlin had gone any redder yet, Arthur could see that Merlin’s tongue had darted to the corner of his mouth, as if he was concentrating on Arthur’s pleasure. Arthur would be lying if he said that this was not a turn on. He could just imagine how Merlin would look when seeking Arthur’s pleasure in other ways. That firm hand would slither and glide, up across Arthur’s cock head, and back down towards his now tight, aching bollocks, back into the sensitive taint just behind. With every pass of Merlin’s hand across the base of Arthur’s left foot, he could feel his arousal growing. Even with the weight of his bedclothes pressing down on him, the tent in his pyjamas was becoming more and more obvious.

He couldn’t help feeling a little self-conscious, but to be honest, judging by the darting, appraising looks that Merlin kept shooting towards the middle of the bed, the small, sly smile that flashed across his face, and his renewed efforts in massaging Arthur’s wriggling foot, he wasn’t all that upset about Arthur’s reaction.

A finger slipped between Arthur’s big and second toes, and it felt so fantastic that Arthur couldn’t help yelping “Yes! Oh God, yes!” and letting out a long, drawn-out, ecstatic groan.

Just then the door opened and Gwen popped her head round. “Owain’s fixed the fuses. Breakfast’s ready, Arthur. There’s a bit left over for you, if you want it, Merlin?”

“Yeah,” said Merlin, pausing, before squeezing Arthur’s foot between the flats of both palms. “That’ll be - ah - great, thanks.”

Was Arthur imagining things, or was Merlin’s voice sounding a bit deeper and huskier than usual? And his cheeks were the colour of ripe beetroot, which accentuated his cheekbones an absolute treat. Success! Arthur risked taking a quick peek towards Merlin’s groin and was gratified to see that the looseness of Merlin’s jogging trousers didn’t hide the tell-tale bulge there.

“So, what do you fancy, then, Merlin?” Arthur could hear the mirth in Gwen’s voice, but refused to pay her any attention, because whatever it was that Merlin was now doing with his hands felt amazing.

Ignoring Gwen, Arthur groaned again, even more loudly than before. “Yes! Fuck, Merlin, that feels fantastic. Oh God! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“I’ll… er…” Merlin coughed. “I’ll have whatever he’s having, Gwen. Thanks.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not my characters, I'm not getting paid.


End file.
